


Five tattoos Phil Coulson had before he met Clint Barton (and one he got after)

by madness_and_smiles



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 19:15:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madness_and_smiles/pseuds/madness_and_smiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil had five tattoos before Clint Barton entered into his life, and then he got another one after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five tattoos Phil Coulson had before he met Clint Barton (and one he got after)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fuckitfireeverything](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckitfireeverything/gifts).



> Right so, I had a lot of fun writing this, a big thank you to fuckitfireeverything, for helping me with the idea of Coulson's tattoos and then beta-ing the fic. You are wonderful and I love you.
> 
> Enjoy!

**1.** **The Shield**

Phil turns eighteen and immediately marches into a tattoo parlor. Or, rather, stumbles might be a better word. He’s young and reckless and he wasn’t really watching what was going into his drink so he’s had 3 shots too many and at that moment a Captain America tattoo seems like a _great_ idea. He’s joined the ROTC after all, half because they’re paying for college but mostly because he knows it’s the right thing to do. He tells people things about patriotism, protection, and tuition, which are all true, and then at night he looks over his Captain America trading cards (only 4 away from a full set!)  and pictures a better world. The hiding and the lying will be worth it, he thinks, if he can try to be a hero. Upon waking up the next morning his lower back hurts just as much as his head, but even though he groans and searches blindly for some aspirin, Phil can’t help but feel a little pleased with himself. Drunk, tattooed, and eighteen. He’s such a grown up.

Phil doesn’t regret the tattoo in the future, not really. Nothing is symbolically more perfect than Captain America’s iconic shield. It is everything Phil ever believed in and more. But he’ll find himself wishing that the artist had put the tattoo a little higher up his back, because when Barton makes a snide comment during a mission ( _I knew you were America’s bitch, Coulson, but this is just ridiculous)_ Phil can’t stop the flush from creeping up his neck since he knows _exactly_ where the other man is looking.  He hopes that the extra reports he assigns to Barton as punishment will act as some sort of deterrent for the future, but he’s starting to realize that Agent Barton is a hopeless cause.

 

**2.** **The Song**

The next tattoo happens just before Phil’s first deployment. He doesn’t lie when people ask him how he feels, he tells the truth; he is so fucking scared. Of course he says it with a smile so he’s not sure how seriously people take him. Hopefully not very. Phil knows he might come home missing, or he might not come home at all, and the idea of erasure terrifies him. Phil, who craves order and permanence, is not sure he could handle being unmade. Then there’s another reason Phil doesn’t want to go overseas, but he doesn’t like to talk politics with people he doesn’t know well. It’s a couple weeks before Phil has to leave and he makes the decision. He’s completely sober this time, which is a sobering thought itself. The words ‘ _Who vows to fight for what’s right night and day?’_ go on the side of his rib cage, lyrics from another time and just the push he needs. Skin is permanent in a way that thoughts and feelings can never be (Phil thinks at the time, having yet to fall in love) and it comforts him during the midst of his first firefight to know that there is a promise inked onto his body. With every breath he takes the words expand and stretch but stay with him.

The other soldiers see the tattoos of course, because privacy isn’t exactly in abundance. Between the shield, the lyrics, and the trading cards that Phil couldn’t bear to leave at home he earns the designation of “Captain America Boy,” which isn’t something Phil is overly fond of in part because for everyone soldier who says it with a smile another says it with a sneer, and also because Phil frankly hasn’t earned the right to have himself compared to such a legend. He isn’t worthy, not yet anyways. Captain America saved the world, and Phil isn’t sure what this war is supposed to be doing but it isn’t that. He focuses on protecting his comrades and saving civilians instead, because that’s how he will live up to his promise.

****

**3.** **The Rangers**

“You know sir, I would’ve pegged you for a navy man myself.” It takes Coulson a second to realize what Barton is talking about, but then he sees that the bleeding archer is looking at the Rangers tattoo on his left bicep.

“And why is that?” Phil just needs to keep him talking, needs to keep him awake until the medevac gets there.

“Well you’re from the coast, Maine right?” Coulson’s shirt is getting wetter by the second as he presses it against Agent Barton’s open side.

“How did you-“  
“Seems like growing up near the ocean would give you a taste for the life at sea.”

“Agent Barton, were you hiding in the ventilation again?” Coulson isn’t surprised that Barton has somehow come by the knowledge of his hometown. He is, however, surprised that the other man has given it any measure of though.

“Also I like to think of you in the uniform. A shirt that shows off your chest, and one of those round white caps on your head.” That’s more like the Agent Barton he knows.

“You would never see the photographic evidence.”

“Oh I know sir." Both men knew this was a lie. "I still like to picture it though.” Coulson shouldn’t be so flattered by compliments from a man going into shock, and yet he finds himself fighting a smile.

“Well I’m sorry Barton, but it was the Rangers for me, like the ink says.” Barton shifts and Coulson feels the flow of blood increase. He sucks in a sharp breath. “Stop moving so much, the rescue team will be here in a little bit. I don’t want you to lose any more blood than you have to.” He gets a wet chuckle in reply.

“Alright sir. I’ll try. Thanks for the shirt by the way, sorry I got it all bloody.”

“Barton, the state of my shirt is not what I care about here.”

“What do you care about?” and Barton may be dying (no he’s not, he’s _not)_ but he’s still able to give Coulson that _look_. Coulson debates saying something like the mission, or his track record, but then settles on the truth as usual.

“You, of course.”

“Knew that… just nice to hear you say it…” which is a sentence that sets off alarms in Coulson’s head but he knows it’s something to deal with later. He’s more concerned with the way Barton’s eyelids are beginning to droop, and the clammy feeling of his skin.

“Barton, I need you to stay with me okay?”

“But I already made the shot… let me sleep a bit?”

“You made a great shot, but I need you to keep your eyes open. For just a little longer.”

“Tired… I thought being a secret agent was supposed to be more fun…”

“Not everything can be like the circus. I’d make a terrible clown after all.” Barton loves to laugh. If Coulson can make him laugh, he’ll be okay. However he doesn’t get even a moan of agreement, Clint’s eyes are shut and his jaw his slack. Coulson loses his breath for a moment when he hears the wings of a chopper coming in.

“That’s them, you’re going to be fine Barton, just give me a little smile.” No response. “Agent Barton.” Coulson says it sternly into Barton’s ear. “You’re going to be okay. Can you hear me? Respond. Barton. Barton! CLINT!” 

“Phil,” Clint gasps weakly, and then the medics take him away.

 

**4.** **The Date**

There are some days that stay with you your whole life, and for Phil Coulson one of those is a certain date in 2004. Why? None of your goddamn business, but he has it tattooed onto his right hip. Clint Barton knows the reason, but he sure as hell isn’t telling. It’s worth noting that Coulson had been a SHIELD agent for two years by this point but 2004 was the first year that he lost an agent, that he had a younger sister before 2004 and not after, and that the Boston Red Sox won the World Series for the first time in 86 years.

 

**5.** **The SHIELD**

 

Clint is straddling Coulson on his bed and pushing his unbuttoned shirt down his arms when he snickers. If there’s something Coulson doesn’t appreciate in foreplay, it’s snickering.

“Something funny?”

“Nope,” but there’s still a mischievous smile on Clint’s face so Phil pulls him down into a rough kiss that Clint loses himself in quickly. He trails his hands up Clint’s sides and feels him hard and grinding against him. Clint pulls away with a moan, his hair disheveled and his eyes dark. He’s staring down at Phil with an intensity that Phil would find terrifying if it weren’t arousing. Then he snickers again, which is nothing if not a mood killer.

“Okay,” Phil says, sitting up and pushing Clint off of him, “You are going to tell me what is so funny that you can’t even have sex without laughing at me. This is supposed to be your second favorite activity.” The only person in Clint’s life Phil has ever felt jealous of was Betty. Clint’s bow.

“Who said that I’m laughing at you? Maybe I just thought of something funny.”

“ _Clint._ ” Phil glares at Clint as he reaches over a hand and rubs it against his chest.

“Well alright, maybe I was laughing at you.  A little. But you have the SHIELD emblem tattooed on your chest so I think you’re more or less asking for it.” Phil allows himself to be pushed back down into the bed and he doesn’t complain when Clint starts biting and licking at his neck.

“You know, I did have that the first time you saw me shirtless, and it was still there the first time we had sex. This isn’t a new thing.”

“I know,” Phil feels Clint grin against his collarbone, “I guess it’s just such a part of you that I didn’t think about it much before now. You are the SHIELD man after all.” Which Coulson finds funny, because he thinks of an entirely different person as the shield man.  He shivers s a little when he feels Clint’s tongue run over the mark. “Just tell me, why’d you get it? Did Fury pay you? Was it another drunken exploit?“

“No, definitely not. That was a one-time thing.” Phil laughs and then gasps under the pressure of Clint’s mouth. Still, he considers his answer to the question as Clint’s mouth continues travel lower down his torso.  
“If the Rangers made me a man,” he says and Clint’s mouth stills for a second, ”then SHIELD let me be a hero. It’s a part of me in a way I can never let go of, just like the rest.” And Clint looks up at him with dark eyes and a red mouth and then goes back to what he was doing with a vengeance.  Phil ends the night very satisfied.

 

**+1. The Hawk**

**  
**

It was a surprise. On the day that Clint was having his field reevaluations, Phil would sneak off to the tattoo parlor. Clint would have to stay the night for medical testing too, so Phil would pick him up in the morning. It was perfect, and miraculously it went off without a hitch, largely in part to Natasha being excellent at distraction.

“I’m just saying,” Clint grumbles as they drive away from SHIELD headquarters, “That my bed would’ve been much more comfortable with you in it.”  
“Clint those beds are the size of coffins. They are meant for one person and one person only.”

“You could’ve slept on top of me.”  
“You were covered in wires!” Phil throws his hands in the air and winces at the soreness. Luckily he’s wearing sunglasses.

“Alright, but when you have your med-eval don’t expect me to sleep on top of you!”

“I think we both know you’d be more comfortable in the air ducts above me.” The fact that Clint doesn’t dispute this speaks volumes. They fall into silence then, but it’s a comfortable one. Phil has Art Blakey’s _Moanin’_ on the radio and he smiles at Clint tapping his fingers to the beat. It’s the little things, really, that get you in the end. When they pull into the driveway Phil presses a brief kiss to Clint’s temple before climbing out of the car. He waits for Clint to grab his bag and his bow before going inside the house. Phil knows that Clint is going to grab a beer before going for a shower, so he walks straight into the bedroom and begins to undo his shirt.

“Phil, you want a cold one?”

“No I-“ Phil’s voice catches as he pulls the shirt off. He’s an agent of SHIELD dammit. One little tattoo shouldn’t bother him so much.

“You okay?” He hears Clint walk into the room (purposeful, the noise is always purposeful with Clint) as he turns to face the door.  
“Yeah I’m fine I just-“ and then Clint’s beer hits the floor (it doesn’t break, thank god, because Phil does not want to clean up glass right now).

“What do you have on your arm.” Clint takes a step forward, but he’s hesitant, as if Phil’s some scared animal that would try to run away.

“I got a new tattoo yesterday. Like it?” and Phil is still as Clint takes another step forward and reaches out cautiously with his arm, ghosting his fingers over the image.

“It’s a hawk.” Clint states dumbly, “It’s a hawk carrying arrows. Phil, why did you tattoo a hawk carrying arrows onto your bicep?” It is indeed a hawk carrying arrows, against a dusky purple and blue sky. It runs down Phil’s right shoulder and wraps around his bicep.

“Well, technically, the guy at the parlor did the tattooing-“  
“ _Phil.”_ Clint has a bit of a tremble in his voice, so Phil holds Clint’s face in his hands and looks into his eyes (like the sea after a storm, a voice says somewhere) and kisses him briefly.

“I think you know why,” He says before kissing him again. The kiss is bright and warm and lasts for a lifetime.


End file.
